


What's a metaphor?

by everythingremainsconnected



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 13:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12818124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingremainsconnected/pseuds/everythingremainsconnected
Summary: Vogel doesn't know what a lot of words mean...





	What's a metaphor?

Words were hard. They muddled around the page like twitchy little bugs and Vogel couldn’t pin them down. The long ones were the worst and wiggled through his head like rainbow worms, flashing and changing all the time. Those stupid worms wouldn’t hold still and trying to make them still just gave him a headache. Words like ‘profile’ were hard but he couldn’t tell ‘Manda that. Then she’d think he was dumb and that wasn’t ok. It wasn’t right either but he didn’t know how to tell her.

Back in the Bad Place, Martin had seen how Vogel squinted and squirmed and threw books away rather than be beaten by them. 

_“How do you make ‘em stay put!” Vogel shouted. Frustration rolled off him. “They always change!”_

_Martin waited for Vogel to wear himself out before trying something new. “Sometimes they don’t stay put for folks. How ‘bout I tell you stories instead?”_

Ever since then Martin had helped Vogel make sense of pesky worm words, not to mention everything else. For a really long time everything was the best - until it wasn’t. With Martin and Cross and Gripps gone, Vogel had no one to help the world make sense when his brain hit hard walls. Words, talking, finding ‘Manda food… he tried. He really did. But everything was _hard_ and he didn’t know how to be clever at the world. 

When they were back together again the rightness of things settled back into place. It wasn’t just the promise of righteous violence that the guys always brought with them like a very localised punk apocalypse; the guys meant family. The world wasn’t magically easy but at least it was fun again. And the guys helped Vogel make sense of the tricky bits and the long words. 

* 

Something was off. Not properly wrong, not Priest or Blackwing wrong, but definitely not right. The smell filled Martin’s head, the tang on the air biting into him like salt into metal. He didn’t even have to whistle; the four of them instinctively drew nearer to the hut where Amanda stayed with the four-handed witch. Never exactly a cloud of rainbows and puppies, Drummer now felt… tangled. 

“What’s shaking?” Martin asked, trying to keep it cool. Stressing her out wouldn’t help any. 

Cross played along. “Yeah. Why you so twisted up?” 

Amanda looked at all of them and couldn’t hide her fear. “I think something really bad is coming. The visions are weird. But I need you to see if it’s like literal or a metaphor.” 

Amanda had prickles to her that didn’t feel familiar to Martin. He worried about that, about what else he’d missed. At his elbow was Vogel, whispering, a hummingbird of confusion flitting around his head. Martin saw Vogel’s struggle and muttered, “I’ll explain later.” 

And so Boss had sent them south to hunt for danger as if they weren’t already a four-sided magnet that attracted every kind of trouble. They trudged along, excitement fizzing up like bubbles in shaken soda bottles and being together again had popped the lids right off. There’d be a fight, probably a damn good one, and they were helping Drummer all at once. As much as Martin loved a fight he was starting to think maybe Amanda was more important. That tangle around her wasn’t right and the sooner they fixed it, the better off she’d be. 

One sour note cut through the bubbles and Martin brought Vogel into a friendly chokehold and ruffled his hair. “Listen up Vogel, a metaphor-” 

“Is it like symbolism and shit?” Vogel tried. He squirmed away from the chokehold and danced around instead. If he moved enough maybe he could make the word-worms move with his body instead of against it. 

“You know what symbolism is?” Martin asked. Vogel’s steps faltered and before he could drown in the depths of not understanding, Martin brought him up short. “Metaphors are like… like poetry and shit, but more.” 

“Aargh _no!_ ” 

“Ok, no poetry.” Martin patted his pockets for cigarettes that weren’t there and scowled. Something about this world had his hackles up. Gripps and Cross came in close as Martin’s unease wafted. “Metaphors are fancy lies, Vogel.” 

“Lies?” Vogel stopped dead in his tracks. His heart sunk a million miles in the blink of an eye. Lies were from the Bad Place. Lies hurt and crushed him. Lies came from Bad People, not from Amanda. Didn’t they? “Why would Drummer lie?” 

“She ain’t lyin’,” Martin tried, “but she needs to know if the visions are lyin’ to _her_. Metaphors are fancy lies that folk tell to foolish people. Liars try an’ make things seem like somethin’ they ain’t.” 

“We ain’t foolish!” Cross shouted. He swung his new weapon, a rainbow-festooned mallet, to emphasise his point. The garish colours on the mallet and his 90s hair makeover did not help. 

Martin nodded his agreement. “We gotta know if the visions are tryin’ to trick Drummer. We gotta help her find the truth.” 

Vogel started dancing again. Truth was a word he knew. Truth was his family - the guys and Drummer - and truth was something he could hold on to. Gripps caught scent of his joy and hefted Vogel up for a piggyback ride as they kept heading south.

**Author's Note:**

> So far canon has yet to satisfy my need for Rowdy family time so here you go. [I'm on Tumblr](https://everythingremainsconnected.tumblr.com/) and I tend to [tweet uselessly about the show](https://twitter.com/itssopunk), if you're into that kind of thing :D


End file.
